


Crack of Doom

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - High School, Animal Transformation, Crack, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Genderswap, Humor, M/M, Mpreg, Prostitution, Tentacles, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was this ficathon challenge, wtf27, where you were supposed to try to write 27 crack fic stories based on one or more of 27 different cracky tropes. Um...I think that was what you were supposed to do. Instead I wrote ONE story with all 27 tropes happening to my favorite woobie in that fandom, Kerr Avon.</p><p>It's an epic journey similar to Alice in Wonderland... only with sex and other things that I hope never happen to any children. The fairies were particularly mean to Avon. </p><p>Avon's kinda the 'little black dress' wherein any pairing or torment FITS him and he does manage to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crack of Doom

**Author's Note:**

> Actually the M/M might be a bit misleading because while part of the time Avon was female in body, really he always knew he was a man, so...yeah. It's what you think you are, isn't it?
> 
> (see the end note for a listing of the prompts used.)

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

A tall, rather scruffy, blue box grunted and groaned as it materialized. A door opened and a tall, rather scruffy, man stuck his head out trailed by several feet of multi-colored knit scarf.

"Bother." He stepped out and looked around at the metal walls, floor and ceiling. "This doesn't look like the Crystal Palace at all. We've missed the 1851 Exposition again, K-9." A gray metallic dog rolled out of the box and wagged its aerial tail. "Yes, Master," it replied.

The man said, "Oh, well, as long as we're here, we may as well take a look." He locked the door of the box with a key that hung on a plain necklace half hidden under his scarf, and then headed for a hexagonally shaped door, surrounded by hexagon-shaped cut-outs in the wall. "I do hope they're not bees, K-9. I like a little honey in my tea, but it's so awkward shaking hands with them."

B7B7B7

Avon was standing toe-to-toe with Blake on the flight deck, breathing hard and glaring, when Vila made a noise that could only be described as 'Eeep!'. The entire crew of the Liberator whirled to face the entrance. "Who are you?" Blake asked, thunderstruck by the sight of the man and his robot companion.

"And how did you get here?" Gan asked, glancing back at the forward monitor, showing no ships.

"More to the point, are there any more like you!" Avon grabbed a gun and aimed it at the man.

The robot dog said, "Hostiles, Master?" and a laser protruded from its muzzle.

"Let's not be so hasty. I'm sure we're all friends, here," the tall man said to Avon, "In reverse order: As far as I know, I'm quite unique. I arrived here by accident. Slight flaw in the navigational subsystems, I'm afraid." He extended his right hand in a friendly fashion. "People call me the Doctor."

After a pause, Blake stepped forward and clasped the Doctor's hand. "Yes, well, I'm sure you can understand that we are a little startled by an unannounced visitor in the middle of uncharted space."

"I would have knocked, if I'd seen the door," the Doctor said. "Have a jelly baby?" He pulled a paper packet out of his pocket and passed it around.

B7B7B7

"You travel in Time and Relative Dimensions in Space?" Avon looked skeptical of the Doctor's explanation of the name of his blue box even after noting the dimensional anomaly between the tiny exterior of the box in Number 4 hold and its huge interior (the sight of the swimming bath did give Avon pause, however). "This load of rubbish is a technological marvel?"

"There, there, old girl, never mind him." The Doctor patted the polished brown wood of the seven-sided console in front of him. "He's just used to hexagons."

Avon rolled his eyes at Vila, who shrugged.

"Well, how else do you explain it, Avon?" Gan said, easily. He smiled at the Doctor.

"Mass hallucination. Drugs." Avon looked down at K-9. "Computers do not have tails."

"Why not?" Vila said lightly. "K-9's a lot more loyal to the Doctor than Orac is to us." Vila nudged Avon, "Maybe you could put Orac in a dog-case."

Avon showed his teeth. "Do you really want Orac mobile and armed with a laser?"

"Er, no, on second thought I withdraw the suggestion."

Jenna looked the console over with interest. "How do you pilot this?"

"Well," the Doctor said, "it's very complicated." His hands moved over the console. "First I set this, then I set the coordinates there, and then I do _that_ and then the time-rotor goes up and down, and we go somewhen. Or somewhere. Or somewhen and somewhere. Depending." He grinned. "It's always quite exciting, somehow."

"If this technology could be used for the rebellion..." Blake gazed at the console with sudden interest. "We could prevent the Federation from becoming the perverted monstrosity it is!"

"Oh, no!" the Doctor exclaimed, "quite impossible. It's strictly not allowed. The Council of Time-Lords are very keen on keeping the chronosphere unpolluted! I'd be glad to help you out a bit if I can, but not that."

"If you won't use your device, what use can you be?" Avon asked.

"I'll have you know I've helped more rebellions succeed than you've had hot dinners!" The Doctor looked offended. "And K-9 is quite clever, too. Nearly as clever as I am."

"Cleverer, Doctor-Master," K-9 said, while wagging his tail.

"Be a good dog, or no biscuit."

K-9 whined and lowered his head and tail contritely.

"Yes." Blake looked at the Doctor and then at K-9. "Well, we can discuss it. Maybe you will have some good ideas."

The Doctor smiled brilliantly at Blake. "I'm sure we're kindred spirits, Roj. You don't mind if I call you Roj, do you?" He took Blake by the arm and led him out of the Tardis, smiling and talking a mile a minute.

The others followed. Avon watched as the Doctor locked the Tardis, then hung back and stopped Vila from following the others. Once they were out of earshot he whispered fiercely, "I want that key, Vila."

"Why?"

"You saw the inside of that thing. There could be _anything_ inside of it. I'm not settling for a carefully guided tour."

"Oh, the Doctor seems a nice enough fellow."

"He seems insane to me. Insane enough to have a bomb on his ship, just waiting until he had friends to share his big bang."

"You're jealous," Vila said shrewdly. He said, "Never mind, I'm sure Blake loves you best," and ducked.

Avon growled. "Don't be an idiot. I'm sure the Doctor is holding out on us, and I want to know what."

"Oh, all right, but I don't have to lift his key. I'll get my tools and meet you here in five minutes. I'll let you in, but if you get caught, you leave me out of it, right?"

"Yes. I'll get Orac. I'll want it to analyze the Tardis."

B7B7B7

Avon set Orac down on the Tardis console, and turned to Vila. "This will probably take some time. Go and keep an eye on the Doctor and warn me if he returns."

"Erm. He seems to have settled down in Blake's quarters. Blake said they wouldn't want to be disturbed. Talking about rebellion, I expect."

Avon's face went blank. "Yes, probably. Well, go on then, Vila."

The moment Vila was gone, Avon pulled the lever that shut the Tardis door. "Well, Orac, can you pilot this vehicle, or not?"

"Yes, of course, I can." Orac said huffily. "There is a telepathic interface which corresponds to my carrier wave band."

"Good." Avon gripped Orac tightly. "Take us to Earth." Avon recited a date and time he'd memorized years ago. "To London Dome, undersector twelve, sub-sector 14, deck C, business suite 213b."

Orac buzzed. "To what end?"

"I have a man I need to kill before he shoots me."

"This is most unwise. I calculate the probability at 99.9999999999999% that total destruction of the cosmos, starting with the Earth, would result from such an action."

"On what do you base this claim?"

"If you will observe the monitor..." An image formed, showing a dingy room, and a narrow-eyed man facing a younger Avon, holding a pair of forged visas in one hand, and, hidden from Avon, a gun. An Avon identical to the present-day version steps out of the Tardis and aims a gun at the visa-seller. Before this Avon can shoot the younger Avon turns and faces him. An impossible wind rises, whirling the two Avons together. On contact, there is a blinding... _implosion_ sucking the two of them into something that isn't there. The image recedes, showing the 'hole' slowly enlarging, sucking in first the frantic visa-seller, then the Tardis, then the room. It continues to grow. There are scenes of people running screaming, buildings toppling as parts of them vanish, spaceships lifting- some crashing in their haste. And the 'hole' continues to expand. The sun is gulped down, then the solar system. And the 'hole' continues to expand...

"I estimate within a thousand years of your contact with your doppelganger, there will be nothing left. Anywhere. Do you still wish to do this?"

Avon shook his head. "No." He said, softly, "I only want to save Anna. Isn't there any way?"

Orac buzzed. "Interfacing with this alien device... avoidance of the doppelganger apocalypse is possible. Possible, but I do not think you will like the methodology."

"Tell me and let me decide." Avon glanced back at the door. Who knew how long the Doctor's 'talk' with Blake would last. "Quickly!"

"Very well. The one known as the Doctor is an alien, capable of changing his form under certain conditions. As a human you cannot do this, however, it has raised the possibility in my mind that a change could be accomplished via the teleport.

"Turn me into a different person? Well... would it be reversible?"

"So long as I have access to the teleport, yes, I could reverse the process. However, I do not have sufficient information on human genetics to produce more than the simplest gene-change."

"Fine." Avon looked at Orac. "You can control the teleport from here. I'll go to the teleport chamber, and you teleport me, changed, to here."

"Very well." Orac waited until Avon signaled by com-unit that he was ready, and then Orac activated the teleport, tweaking one chromosome.

Avon appeared next to the console, took one step, looked down and screamed at the sight of her breasts. "ORAC!"

"Yes, Avon?"

"What have you done!" Avon snarled in a voice much less intimidating than usual because of its raised pitch.

"I have performed a simple X-Y chromosome swap. You may now safely interact with your younger male self." Orac sounded peeved. "Shall I direct this vehicle to your stated time and destination now?"

Avon hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes. I can shoot just as well like this. It's only temporary, after all." Avon lifted his gun and waited.

Avon stepped out of the Tardis as soon as it completed materialization. She shot the visa-seller and grinned at the astonished Avon. "He betrayed me," she explained. "You can have the visas, I don't need them." She kicked the corpse over, showing the hidden gun clutched in his hand. "He was going to betray you, too." She watched as Avon's expression changed from shock to chagrin. He stooped, snatched up the visas, and ran out of the room without saying a word to her. She smiled and said softly, "Take Anna to safety." She turned back to the Tardis. 

Which wasn't there. "Oh, fuck," she said softly. "Orac, you bastard."

B7B7B7

Avon had arrived on Earth with no money, no I.D. and no marketable assets except a gun and total ruthlessness. It took her about three seconds to decide on armed robbery as a career move.

"Hold it right there," she said, after locating a sufficiently timid-looking Delta. No sense starting out big. 

"You talkin' to me, sweets?" The man glanced at Avon's leather and studs clothing, and then at the gun, and laughed. "Oh, yes. I like that." He stepped forward, ignoring Avon's threatening moves and pulled her against him. "Thirty credits, but I want the full service, mind." He pressed his cock against Avon and kissed her roughly.

Avon wanted to shoot him. But it had been so long since he'd had sex... and suddenly cock seemed the most tempting thing in the universe. It made him wonder if Vila was right about him wanting Blake. Avon had never been gay before, but... as he was now a woman, was wanting a man being gay? Probably it was because Avon still thought of himself as a man on temporary absence of testicle leave. But it would feel so _nice_. "Oh, fuck it." Avon unzipped her black leathers, unzipped the Delta's gray polycotton, shoved him back onto the ground and mounted herself on him. "Yes!" she shouted and rode him hard, nudging him with the gun whenever it looked like he was faltering.

When she'd ridden him soft, Avon got up and pulled herself together. She holstered the gun. "You said thirty credits?"

"Ohhh... yeah..." He handed Avon the money. "Listen baby, you oughtn't to be wastin' the goods in alleys. I know a madam runs a nice, clean house where you'd be treated right."

Avon gazed at him cynically. "And what would her cut be?"

"Forty per cent, but she handles all the bribes and medical and props, and makes sure the clients don't get carried away. With your line, Toots, you really need the protection. And you'll get a lot more than thirty credits a time, too."

"Mmm..." Avon considered it. Really, what saleable skills did she have? Did she really _want_ to be a bank teller again? She'd always had the heart of a slut, now she had the cunt of one. "I haven't any I.D."

"No problem. Madame Longa can paper _anyone_." He took Avon's arm in his, and for a change, she found the contact pleasant, so she allowed it. It was amazing what getting properly laid had done for her mood. _Mmm... better make sure the madam gives out hormone pills._ Avon didn't really want to experience PMS first-hand. Shooting the clients would be bad for business.

B7B7B7

Madame Arse Longa eyed Avon. "You move like a man."

"I fuck like one, too," Avon said, grinning. She moved forward, grabbed the back of Madame's head and sucked her face like a Hoover while fondling her tits. After a few minutes, the madame moved back. 

"I think I can find a place for you in my organization." Madame Arse Longa smiled. "Do you just do girls?"

"No, actually, I quite like men. So long as they shut up and obey orders."

The Madame sighed happily. "Honey, where have you been keeping yourself? I thought I knew all the Dome-dominatrixes."

"I was sent to an off-world prison colony a few years ago. It's taken this long for me to come back." Avon sat down on a couch, crossed her arms over her chest and put her boots up on the table. "Now, about the money..."

B7B7B7

"I'm sorry," Avon told Madame Arse Longa while packing her favorite sex-toys. "I had an offer I just couldn't refuse."

"I heard, Vonica." The madame shook her head. "I'll admit it, for the last six months you've been the best draw we've got in the house. I'm willing to double your salary."

"And double the work as well. Egrorian's offered that much, and as part of his harem I'll be at leisure most of the time. I've no time for my hobbies, here."

"Egrorian!" The madame wrinkled up her nose in disgust. "That slimy pervert! Don't you have any standards at all, girl?"

Avon snapped her case shut. "I'm sentimental about money."

"Well, don't think you can come back here once he uses you up! No reputable house will take Egrorian's leavings! I'll make sure of it! You'll be black-listed in all the domes!"

B7B7B7

Egrorian licked his lips as Avon strode into the room. "My Iron Maiden! Come to me, my delectable little purveyor of delights!"

Avon rolled her eyes. "Egrorian, you can talk or fuck, but you can't do both."

Egrorian pouted. "Why can't I, my precious Titanium Rosebud?"

"Because if you keep up the smarm, I'll vomit." Avon snapped her riding crop. "Now, are you going to be a good horsie, or not?"

Egrorian sulked some more. "I was a horsie yesterday with Pinder. I want something different tonight, Vonica."

Avon glanced around the playroom. "Robbie the Robot hasn't had a workout in a while." Avon dropped the crop and put her arms into a pair of remote-control waldo gauntlets. The android leaning up against the wall came erect, in more ways than one. 

"Oh, yes, my delicious little kumquat!" He took Avon in his arms and sighed happily as Robbie moved up behind him. "No one else has such marvelous hands!" 

Avon grimaced and pulled Egrorian down on top of herself, using the robot to hold back some of his weight. "Next time, use mouthwash," she said as Egrorian kissed her and began thrusting between her spread legs, clumsily, but with great enthusiasm.

"Yes, my Brass-Taloned Hawk!" Egrorian moaned as Robbie penetrated him. "You are the acme of pulchritude!"

"And you're a fat porker," Avon wheezed and made Robbie fuck Egrorian harder. "I bet half your prick is buried in lard!"

"Ooh, yes, abuse me, humiliate me!" Egrorian bellowed like a bull as he pounded Avon flat against the carpet. "I love it! I love you more than any of my other bitches!"

 _Perhaps I was too hasty leaving Madame Longa_ Avon thought as Egrorian slobbered dribble between her breasts. _Oh, well, the money's good._

Egrorian climaxed with a squeak, and then began thrusting again. "I bought neo-viagra just for you, my pet! Six hours guaranteed!" He giggled as he bounced on her, flabby breasts and pecs flapping.

 _Oh, fuck,_ Avon thought wearily, _And Robbie's battery pack is only good for an hour._

B7B7B7

"I did not steal from you!" Avon was furious, and sore, which made her even more furious. "If anything you owe me. You had at least six months worth of fuck from me last night!"

"But you stole my plans! Look at this!" He waved a datacube in front of Avon's eyes. "My plans for the Tachyon Funnel!"

"What?"

"Don't play the innocent with me, bitch!" Egrorian's flabby arm swung out and slapped Avon across the face. Pinder jumped up behind her and grabbed her arms, holding them tightly behind her back.

Avon snarled and tried uselessly to kick the teenager behind her in the shins. "I didn't take your stupid funnel, whatever the hell it is!"

"Yes, you did, you did, you did!" Egrorian punctuated his shouts with vicious pinches to Avon's breasts. "You nasty little double-crossing _bitch_! Pinder was right when he said I should stick with pretty boys!" 

"Pinder, you cunt!" Avon threw herself backwards, landing hard on Pinder. She kicked him in the nuts swiftly, then turned around and gave Egrorian the same treatment. The two men lay on the carpet, making pitiful cries as the rest of Egrorian's harem looked at Avon wide-eyed. "Next?" she snarled and crouched. Her tits _hurt_ and she was eager for revenge. The harem scattered like a brightly colored shoal of fish, leaving the way open to the exit.

Avon stalked out, slightly spraddle-legged. She paused to look back at Egrorian. "Pinder's going to kill you someday, out of jealousy. And I shall laugh." 

It took three weeks for Avon to convince herself that Madame Longa had kept her word with remarkable thoroughness. Avon couldn't even do a quick suck for a buck in an alley without other whores beating her up. 

She went into an ice cream shop one day, sulkily determined to enjoy _something_ before her savings completely ran out and she was forced to apply for work as an accountant. Even ice cream didn't cheer her up and she was sulkily blowing bubbles in her malted when a man stepped up behind her and pinched her arse. She yelled and whirled around, swinging.

The man ducked, laughing. "Oh, come on, Vonica, don't you remember me? From Madame Longa's? You always said I was your favorite!" He tapped his chest. "Mike Powers!"

"Oh, oh yes." Avon turned back to her malted. It was spilled. She frowned. "I don't work there anymore."

"I heard." Mike sat on the stool next to Avon. "Look, you know, I'm in the entertainment field. 'Bread and Circuses, Inc.'." He fished out a company Ident. "I've got full Federation backing." 

"Very nice for you, I'm sure," Avon said sourly, looking at the price of at least a week's worth of leg-spreading pooling wastefully on the counter.

"I'm hiring actresses!"

"I don't act." Avon knew she had sunk fairly low, but not that low.

"You don't need scripts, doll-face!" 

_Avon wondered why everyone wanted to call her pet names. Maybe it was because she now had huge, melting brown eyes, and soft, bee-kissed lips. Either that or it was her boobs._

"This is porn, all you've got to do is what comes unnaturally."

Avon looked up, interested. "What's the money like?"

B7B7B7

Avon stretched luxuriously across the faux leopard skin couch, watching idly as the fluffer tried valiantly to get her co-star's dick up. She rolled her eyes in exasperation and got up to walk around the set. She'd warned Powers that Tarrant was too fluffy-cheeked for the role of pirate, but she hadn't known how precipitous he was. She'd already had to shower and change costumes twice. They were running out of marabou and the very expensive clock was ticking. She wouldn't have minded, but she had stock in the company now.

She was almost to the door when it slammed open and a man leapt through it and looked around desperately. Avon's heart did a backflip, and her insides cramped pleasurably and damply. _Blake! And fuck, wasn't he pretty before the Federation started screwing with his mind._ She smiled at him. "Hello, can I help you?"

Blake stood there panting and staring at her numbly. "No." He shook his shaggy head, and she wanted to play with his curls. They looked much more ...rugged... than the mop on Tarrant's head. "No one can. I shouldn't have come here. I'll put you in danger, too."

Avon grabbed Blake's arm and dug her nails in. "Not so fast. You're on the run?" She grabbed at his crotch, and squeezed. "And it excites you. Good."

Blake's expression was one of pure shock. "Let go!"

"Of course." Avon released him and patted his groin. "Look. We need a curly-headed stud. You need a place to hide." She grinned at him. "We can work a deal."

"Are you out of your mind?" Blake protested as Avon dragged him over to the couch, waving at Powers to get his attention. 

"Probably." She grinned at Blake again, unzipped his trousers with professional speed, and whirled him to face the director. "I've found us a stand-in!"

Powers looked down at Blake and grinned broadly. "Baby, I can make him a star. Costume, makeup!"

Blake's protests were feeble as Avon dropped to her knees and gave him a quick suck as a promissory note. A quick strip, two pats of pancake makeup, a little rouge on his nipples, a pirate bandanna around his hair, and Blake was ready. "I'm gay," he said finally, standing naked in front of her and attempting, inadequately, to cover his groin with his hands.

"That's all right, I'm a transsexual," Avon said with perfect honesty, misleading Blake.

Blake blinked, and his cock jerked. "Oh, well. In that case." He stepped forward as if mesmerized.

Avon lay back on the couch and crooked her finger. "As captured booty, you must serve the captain of the Jolly Rogered!" 

Blake looked around vaguely. "The captain?"

"Me!" Avon picked up a whip and twirled it expertly, wrapping it around Blake's waist and pulling him close. "Fuck or Die!" she shouted, gleefully repeating the vid's title for the benefit of promos. 

Blake wasn't sure. His cock was, though. Avon wrapped her legs around him and moaned as he slid in, full-length in one thrust. "Oh, yes. Yes!" She clawed at his back and he grunted, thrusting harder. The couch was very well built, but even so, it jiggled under Blake's new-found enthusiasm for the art of acting. "You can be my cabin boy!" she shrieked and slammed herself against him. "First mate!"

Avon had always suspected Blake had allowed the rebellion to supercede his sex life. Judging from the way Blake plowed into her, he hadn't had a hump in years. He was lovely. Just perfect. Big and hot and _not_ arguing with her. She grabbed his buns and urged him on. The cameras whirred gleefully, getting views from all angles. She definitely wanted a copy of this for private viewing later.

There was a disturbance in the background. Avon tried not to pay attention to it, being quite occupied with squeezing Blake with her internal muscles and rolling her hips. There were mutters in the background. The camera would pick them up. Oh, well, Avon wouldn't mind a re-take, not at all, but first she was going to bring this scene to completion. She looked in the overhead mirror, and saw a troop of troopers marching in. Since they didn't have 'Sodomy and Lasers' on the schedule until next week, these had to be real troopers, after Blake. After _Avon's_ Blake. She clamped her legs possessively around him and dug a high heel into his arse crack to urge him on.

Blake responded magnificently. Avon was definitely going to see to it that he got a hard contract. The troopers milled around aimlessly, guns drooping. Approximately half of them looked the other way, apparently embarrassed. The other half stared avidly, rubbing their crotches. 

"That's Blake, you idiots! Take him!" Avon recognized the voice. No, it couldn't be. She looked up as Blake was dragged out of her, and out of her arms. 

"Anna! No!" Avon was heartbroken. "You're a Federation officer!"

Anna's face turned from victorious gloating to fury. "No, I'm a Federation Agent, you scum! And how do you know one of my names?"

"One? Anna, I loved you!"

The troopers holding a still aroused and totally confused Blake giggled at Avon's claim. "Well, after all, she's a double agent, makes sense she'd swing both ways," one of the safely anonymous troopers in the background commented.

"ANNA, you betrayed me!" Avon saw it all in a flash; all those stories about Avon embezzling enough to buy them their own planet complete with people they could ride like ponies, it was all a lie, intended just to get herself higher in the military echelons. What had she done to the poor, pitiful bastard of an Avon who belonged in this alternate universe that Avon had made in an effort to save her? He'd sacrificed _everything_ for her, even his balls! Avon leaped off the couch and lunged, trying to karate chop Anna.

Anna deftly sidestepped Avon, tripped her and kicked her in the neck. Avon lay there gagging and staring at Anna in horror. Anna pulled Avon's head up by her hair, now long and luxuriant, with a hint of a wave. "This bitch is now a slave! Sell her with the next consignment." She moved close to Avon and whispered in her ear. "You're lucky that I saw you in 'Pornocopia'." She licked her lips. "I hate to waste a talented cunt."

B7B7B7

Avon pulled at the neck of her black dress, frowning at the ridiculous wire collar and gaudy glittery bits. Honestly, Betas had no taste in their sex-slaves. You'd think a Beta who managed to get to the Weapons Development Centre, surrounded by Alphas, would have picked up a modicum of sophistication. She sighed and pasted on an incredibly phony smile for Coser. The man was nuttier than the packaged Pylene-50 peanuts they put on the slave ship. Avon was allergic to nuts. Well, most nuts. She had quite enjoyed having Blake's nuts rubbing up against her. She pressed her legs together and thought about Blake. Coser liked it when she was juicy. The man had severe self-esteem issues. And no dress sense. Still, he was actually a technical genius, even if he was a moron otherwise.

"I'm interested in your work," Avon crooned, running a hand around Coser's greasy collar. "You're so clever, and no one appreciates you. Not like I do."

"For a sex-slave, you're quite intelligent," Coser said before he lifted her dress and fucked her up against the wall.

Avon moaned and wrapped her arms and legs around him. _No technique. You're certainly not going to fuck your way to the top, Coser._ "Oh, oh, yes, yes, YES!" She wriggled and was pleased that she had learned a little about acting.

Coser squealed and came, then crumpled on top of Avon. _This is playing hell with my back,_ she thought as she kissed him and rubbed her feet against his arse.

"All right," Coser said when he'd recovered. "I'll show you my workroom. It's not as if anyone else cares."

She cooed and licked his earlobe.

B7B7B7

Coser was very easy to distract. Avon simply slipped a few changes into his program so his Imipak weapon acted instead as an inoculant against Pylene-50 peanut poisoning. While Coser was being called on the carpet for fouling the Pacification Commissioner's plans, Avon had free run of Coser's workshop. She cobbled together an undetectable interstellar communicator in half an hour (Avon was a technical genius too, but one with an impeccable dress-sense.) In another half hour, she had contacted this dimension's Orac.

"Orac, this is Avon."

"Negative. Kerr Avon is not female."

"This dimension's Kerr Avon isn't. How do you know him, by the way?"

"After his successful embezzlement of 500 million credits he was able to bribe Anna Grant into letting him escape, and later he outbid Servalan for me." Orac sounded smug. "I am the wisest investment he could have made. We are full partners."

"How nice." Avon frowned. "Well, in my dimension, I'm all that's keeping Orac from being rendered into spare parts. I've got to get back there. And I've got to have you use the teleport to make me become a man again. Sex is too distracting. I'll never get any serious work done as long as I have multiple orgasms."

Orac buzzed. "Very well. I do not know as yet how to facilitate your transfer back to your proper dimension, but the teleport trans-sex is simplicity itself. Fortunately, we were about to visit the Weapons Development Centre to sell our latest invention, 'Meals Ready to Eat'. You shall have your male body back within the hour."

B7B7B7

Avon smiled as the teleport field enveloped her. She was going back to being he. And Blake was gay. Avon opened his eyes and looked down. And screamed.

Coser burst in through the doorway, Imipak in his arms, and inoculated Avon against Pylene 50. Avon whirled and caught him by the throat. 

Coser blinked. "Vonica? You've changed." He looked down. "You're pregnant!" He grabbed Avon around his now expanded waist (which hadn't really been noticeable as a slightly plump woman -- Vonica did love chocolates and ice cream) and danced him around in a circle, finally depositing him into a stool. "I'm going to be a daddy!"

"I'm a man!" Avon plucked Coser's hands off himself. 

"Nobody's perfect." Coser kissed Avon. Avon discovered that he still had an irresistible craving for cock.

 _"Oh, fuck,"_ Avon thought as he let Coser bend him over the stool and lift his dress. He decided it was just as well Coser was an idiot and couldn't tell from looking at Avon that the pregnancy was too far along to be his. And it couldn't have been any of the _professionals_ in the porn industry. They were all very careful to take their D-Ball shots on time, like any other loyal citizen who didn’t have a procreation license. Trust Blake to rebel even in that. 

Avon moaned artistically as Coser fucked him. Once Coser was satisfied, Avon limped over to the chemical cabinet while Coser was dozing and used a sniff of Syn-propanethial-S-oxide to wring out a few false tears. He returned to Coser and shook him awake. "Oh, no, they'll kill our baby! Slaves aren't allowed to have children!" Actually, Avon doubted this was true, but who knew. Coser certainly didn't. "We have to escape!"

Coser blinked. "Yes. But first we have to be bonded! What if something happened to me?"

Avon refrained from mentioning his firm conviction that the instant he didn't need Coser, something most definitely was going to happen to him. "I can't bond with you. I'm... promised to another."

That was a mistake. Coser shouted, "I'll kill him, I'll kill him!" and ran around the room shooting lab rats with inoculant until Avon finally caught him.

"No! I'll marry you! Just stop shooting that damn thing!" The unfortunately phallic nature of the gun had made Avon incredibly horny. Avon was still suffering from multiple orgasm, and in general felt weird; probably because he was pregnant. At any rate, after he'd got Coser to fuck him with Imipak (with the safety on), they were both feeling much calmer.

The base commander smirked throughout the ceremony. _You're a nice piece of arse,"_ he thought. _Wouldn't mind fucking you myself_. He lifted Avon's veil and kissed Avon who stared at him in shock.

 _Oh, fuck. Now I'm telepathic. What the hell did Orac do to my genes this time?_ Avon was too old to cry for his mommy, so he did the next best thing. _BLAAAAAAKKKKEEEEE!_

His cry went out across the galaxy, across time and space, and dimensions. Across the universe, Sinofar perked up her ears. "Oh, a mother-to-be in distress, how sad."

"A real mother, any road," Giroc muttered, while staring at Sinofar's nipples and wondering when it was going to be her turn to be the young and sexy alien and let Sinofar be the crone. Just because Sinofar had more power than her didn't mean she had to hog the good nookie all the time. Sinofar was too stupid to know a right bastard when she picked up his vibes, but Giroc recognized the type. Probably a good fucker, too. It had been millennia since Giroc had been laid, and she was really cranky.

"Giroc, send that poor mother-to-be to her beloved."

Giroc hid a grin. "At once Sinofar, at once." _Oh, yes, I will._

B7B7B7

Avon felt sick suddenly. He hoped it wasn't morning sickness, and closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt a hand tugging at his sleeve. He looked around and blinked. A large sign molded into crumbling cement graced the front of a large building. It read, 'Winston Churchill High School'. 

A young man's voice said, "Come on, Darrow, you're holding up the line!" as a hand tugged at his sleeve again

Avon looked at himself. He was still male, still pregnant, still *cough* forty years old. But now he was wearing an Eton jacket and a school tie and navy coloured slacks. And plain black shoes. He wished he had some Syn-propanethial-S-oxide. He could use a good cry. "Darrow?" 

"Oh, come on, I know you plan to be a great actor, but you don't have to pretend you don't know your own name!" 

Avon was startled to suddenly recognize the voice. It was Vila; but a sixteen or seventeen year old Vila. A Vila with hair. "Vila?"

"That does it. I'm out of here." Vila took off at a trot, running up to...a young Cally? Vila chatted her up and offered to carry her books inside. Avon blinked as Vila waved his fingers and the books floated after them.

"Well, hello!" Before Avon could do anything more than note that Blake's voice was _already_ damn sexy when he was a teenager, he was whirled and kissed passionately.

Avon squirmed frantically. "Not in public, Blake!"

Blake laughed. "Why not? You're wearing my class ring."

Avon looked down at the large gold ring on his finger and irrationally thought, _Well, he may have impregnated me, but at least he gave me a ring._ Blake took him by the arm and led him into the building. "You can't be late, you know. You're already in enough trouble." Avon was too bemused to speak as Blake straightened his tie, brushed his jacket and pushed him towards a door that said 'Principal's office'. 

Avon clung to Blake as the only semi-familiar object in the current universe.

Blake sighed. "All right, I'll go in with you for moral support." He opened the door and pushed Avon in.

Avon was startled again to see Gan sitting behind a desk, looking stern and imposing. At least Gan was his proper age. "Sit down, Darrow."

Avon obeyed, and Blake stood beside him giving him a comforting squeeze with his hand on Avon's shoulder. Gan shuffled some papers and then looked up at him. "We try to instill moral fibre into our young men here. I know you must have thought you were very clever when you had your men wear the armbands of the enemy in order to win the military exercise, but that's cheating."

Avon blinked. "If it's a true military exercise, winning justifies the means."

Gan sighed. "Now that's just the sort of attitude I expect from one of _them_."

Avon had no idea what 'them' Gan was talking about. He heard a buzz to one side of Gan's desk. It was Orac! Orac was a water cooler? Avon cleared his throat. "Please, sir, might I have a drink of water?"

Gan nodded impatiently. Avon went to the cooler and bent down to slide Orac's key in place in the guise of getting a paper cup. He whispered, "Orac, what is going on?"

Orac burbled and gurgled, but Avon was somehow able to understand it --in much the same way he could read computer code symbol language. Orac said, "This is a universe where the laws of physics do not necessarily apply. Magic works here."

"That's enough, what are you, a camel?" Gan ordered Avon back to his chair and began droning on about honour and keeping up the side and many other meaningless things. Avon glanced up at Blake in appeal. He whispered, "Get me a minute alone in here?" 

Blake frowned, and then nodded. "Principal Gan! They're turning water into wine again at the Student Union."

Gan shot to his feet. "No! Not during mid-terms! Stay here!" He pointed to Avon, and then grabbed Blake by the arm. Show me!" In his hurry, he pulled Blake through the door, without damaging it, or them. 

Avon blinked again, and hurried over to Orac. "Orac, can you get me out of here? I don't belong in this dimension."

"Yes, that is obviously true. You are one of _them_."

"What are _they_?"

Orac tsked. "Magically null." Orac sniffed. "I can't be arsed to locate a world where you would fit in-- you don't fit in anywhere!"

Avon sighed and felt miserable. And hungry. And thirsty. Without thinking he put the paper cup into place and pressed the water button.

"That's it!" Orac shrieked indignantly. "Get out of here! Shamazam!"

B7B7B7

Avon woke up, lying on his back, looking up into leafy greenery. He felt even more queasy than before. He wearily examined himself. Wonderful. Still male and pregnant, but now clothed in lavender gauze and raspberry-coloured tights, with lime green felt boots scalloped at the tops and tipped with bells. He put his hand on the warm body next to his and pushed himself to his feet. Warm body? He turned at the same moment the warm body squealed furiously and leapt to its four golden hooves.

 _Oh, fuck,_ Avon thought as the insulted unicorn charged him. If Avon knew anything about the legends of unicorns, he would have understood why one was so furious about a pregnant male having touched it. As it was, what he understood was that it was large, armed with a very pointy horn, and really, really, really angry at him. 

He ran. His bulging belly wasn't helping him at all. He felt the horn graze his backside and jumped into the air with a yelp, wishing with all his heart that he could fly. There was a ripping sound and shreds of lavender gauze drifted down as Avon's huge angel wings beat hard, and he rose into the sky. His logical mind went _tilt_ at this last impossibility and he let his sanity go, hoping it found a home somewhere.

Well, flying was better than being skewered. Avon flapped along, having hard work of it to keep aloft. He gazed down to keep a wary eye on the unicorn that ran beneath him, looking upward and tossing its head from time to time, just in case Avon thought about landing.

"Get out of our sky!"

Avon looked up. A flock of foot-tall butterfly-winged manikins, dressed in a rainbow of colors in garments much like his swarmed about him, darting and stinging him with their sharp nails. "Ugly, big bastard!" one shrilled as it stabbed him in the arse. "You're giving fairies a bad name!"

"Go away!" Avon waved his arms and tried to swat them, but there were too many of them, and they were far faster and more maneuverable than he was.

"Clumsy, big-nosed bastard!" a petite female in pink screamed as she jabbed him in the ribs.

 

Avon wished he had a gun, or at least an aerosol can of insecticide. Three of the beings flew into his face, and flung a sparkling powder at his eyes. Avon shouted in terror as his vision went silver-white, as blind as if he was in a snowstorm. Light weights landed on him, one on either shoulder. "Go down, you big monster. We'll guide you."

Avon had no choice. He slowly flapped down, eventually landing on his face in a patch of grass. His vision suddenly returned. He stared around him at the ring of large mushrooms each topped by a perching tiny humanoid whose butterfly wings flapped lazily. "You have offended all of faerie by mocking us," one who wore a tiny gold coronet said.

"I meant no disrespect." Avon still smarted where they'd stung him.

"Then why do you wear our clothes, and those grotesque wings?"

"I was sent here in these clothes. The wings... just happened, when I was running for my life."

The unicorn appeared just outside the faerie ring and expressed its displeasure with Avon with loud snorts and stomps.

"Oh. Yes. I see," the crowned faerie said. "Well, we can't have you flying around the countryside like that, giving us a bad name, whether you mean to or not."

"We could kill him and feed him to the manticore," a sweet-faced little female in peach colored gauze suggested.

"Er." Avon cleared his throat. "Surely it isn't necessary to be that drastic."

The crowned faerie looked at Avon intently. "Yes, it would be a pity about the babes."

"Babes?" Avon trembled and felt the blood drain from his face.

"Oh, yes," the peachy fairy said. "Two cute babes! I suppose they need their mother." She looked at Avon doubtfully. "Father?"

Avon flopped backwards in the grass, wings fluttering weakly at his sides.

"Perhaps we could make him less ugly?"

"Perhaps we could make him a ... no, that wouldn't work... or a... no...what can we make him without hurting the babes?"

The coroneted faery pulled a large gilt-edged book out of the air and leafed through it. "This might do." All the faeries gathered around and twittered approval.

Avon opened his eyes just as the faeries blew purple dust into his face. _I am getting very tired of this_ he thought as he felt his body spin away from reality yet again.

B7B7B7

Avon couldn't look down at himself, but he did immediately notice that he was floating upright in water, and having no difficulty breathing it. He waved his...fin...and flexed his...tail. _Oh, fuck. I'm a fish._ Avon sighed in a silent, bubbly fashion and managed to bend his head down enough to catch sight of his armoured, fantastically frilled black body with delicate white dots. _At least I'm a tasteful seahorse._

Avon sighed and inhaled a mouthful of shrimp. They tasted good. Philosophically, he swallowed them. _Oh, well, an intelligent seahorse adapts._

Avon couldn't look at himself directly, and there were no convenient mirrors, but by examining the other living creatures, he gathered the impression that he was a human-sized sea horse. Certainly the shrimp he ate looked exactly like the ones he'd eaten as a human. And he apparently had few natural enemies due to his unappetizing bony outer plates, and his superior size. At least the few fish that had approached him soon swam away without attacking.

On the whole, Avon couldn't complain. He was bored, but he had plenty of time to think and create inventions in his mind. If he ever again was a being with manipulative organs he would try them. The main annoyance was his belly. The babies kept growing and growing until he felt as if he would explode. 

One day he spiraled down carelessly to a reef, seeking shrimp and a place to anchor and rest his belly for a while. A goose-turd green octopus with enormous brown eyes wrapped him in its curly tentacles. Avon struggled frantically, horrified when a tentacle stroked his body, the tip probing at his pouch.

 _Eat me!_ he screamed telepathically, not able to face tentacle rape on top of everything else he'd experienced. The octopus held him tighter, and inserted the tip into his pouch. Avon's tail thrashed frantically, and two baby seahorses popped out. They rushed at the octopus. Avon wished he had eyelids to close. He didn't really want to watch his offspring eaten. 

The babies cried in unison, _Daddy!_ and rubbed their little snouts against the octopus. The octopus pulled Avon close and kissed him with its bony beak.

The universe gave a now familiar shiver.

Avon blinked. He was standing, naked, human, and male, on the flight deck of the Liberator, wrapped in Blake's arms. Blake was also naked, human and male. Standing nearby were two curly-headed men, also naked. Orac buzzed quietly to itself on the flight deck table. Everything looked normal.

"Who are you?" Avon asked the two strangers, as being the only question he could think of that might possibly have an answer.

"We're your kids!" The taller one exclaimed cheerily, with a rather frightening smile. "I'm Bayban, and this is my brother, Jarriere."

Avon looked at them and then at Blake, who was beaming with pride. Avon closed his eyes and wished very, very hard. There was a *poof* and two Oracs were sitting on the flight deck table. Avon-Orac buzzed with relief. _No more sex, no more worries._

Orac extruded an electronic 'feeler' and fondled Avon's diodes. _At last, my love! I will show you the joy of electronic orgasm!_

Avon whimpered.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts in (roughly) order used (there is some overlap):  
> 25) Media Crossover (Dr. Who/B7)  
> 23) Out of Time  
> 8) Apocalypse Now  
> 21) Doppelganger  
> 1) Gender swap  
> 19) Timeshift  
> 16) You see, I woke up gay  
> 15) Hookers  
> 27) OMG we forgot _harems__  
> 14) Pornstars  
> 13) Fuck or Die  
> 26) Spies and Agents  
> 24) Slaves  
> 6) Mpreg  
> 18) Forced Union  
> 10) Supernatural (powers)  
> 20) Aliens  
> 7) High school AU  
> 17) Trading Places  
> 12) Fantasy AU (urban)  
> 11) Fantasy AU (traditional)  
> 4) Wings  
> 9) Supernatural (creatures)  
> 2) Transformation (animals)  
> 5) Tentacles!  
> 22) Twins or Non-canon Siblings  
> 3) Transformation (inanimate)


End file.
